Lost Girl
by Hola-Meg-a-Cola
Summary: As the SVU detectives work on the rape and murder of a 16 year old prostitute, it brings up issues from Munch’s past that, only closing up this case, will resolve them.
1. Dead Girl

Title: Lost Girl

Author: Meghan-the-Melancholy

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The dead body of a 16 year old girl is found raped and beaten, with no identification and witnesses to the actual crime, leaving it up to the SVU detectives to find the girl's murderer.

Author's Notes: This is my first Svu fic, so... be nice. No flames, _por favor_. If you do flame my ass... then I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, bitch!

I'll warn you right now: there won't be an E/O pairing. There's too many. A few now and then are nice, but seriously. Every other story is about them. In my opinion, there's not enough Munch fics. He's the coolest mother fucker on the show, and he's got like zip. Except for Fin/Munch fics, but those are nasty as hell.

So... on with the story.

Disclaimer: Okay, I own NOTHING, except the characters you don't recognize. All SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, that rich ass mother fucker. If you do decide to sue my poor ass, here is what you shall receive:

1.) 4 System of a Down shirts

2.) 1 bottle of black nail polish

3.) 1 black eye-liner

4.) 1 black eye-shadow

5.) $1.50

Yeah... so don't sue the poor freaky chick

* * *

The sky was dark, but was showing signs that the sun was about to rise. It was a September morning, and there was a chill early for that time of the month. It had led some of the pedestrians to wear coats and gloves.

"I still don't see why I can't move in with you, Craig." A young woman began, the leash of her cocker spaniel in her hand, as she walked with a man who seemed to be in his mid-thirties and the woman herself only looked about twenty-something.

Craig sighed, and brought his left arm around the woman. "Dana, I've told you this nearly a million times. Linda and I are still going through the divorce, and to have some other woman move in with me... it would look suspicious, babe. And the last thing that I want to do is give Linda a reason to get sole custody of the boys." He explained, looking at the woman's dog.

Dana groaned, and looked away from Craig. "You are some piece of work, Craig. You come onto me, are able to make me fall in love with you, and you did all this before you even sent out for divorce papers!" She pulled away, obviously upset. Her dog, meanwhile, began to wander towards an adjacent alley. Dana kept a hold of her dog, while giving Craig a cold stare.

"And now... now you want me to wait on moving in with you, just because you don't wanna tarnish your good image? Well, you know what? Screw you, Craig!" She snapped. The dog continued to pull towards the alley, causing Dana to state, "Damn it, Benny! What's your problem tonight?"

Giving in to the dog, Dana left Craig standing there. He didn't bother to watch her, since she shamed him this early in the morning.

Suddenly, a piercing scream came from the alley, causing Craig to dart towards there. Arriving, he saw Dana standing there, her blue-green eyes large and her hand covering her mouth. She was shaking, and was barely keeping her grip on Benny's leash. Craig slowly walked over to Dana, to see why she was so shocked.

When he reached her, he looked to the side of the building, and jumped back, shocked at what he saw.

On the garbage bags lay the petite frame of a young woman. Dead.

* * *

Detectives John Munch and Odafin 'Fin' Tutuola ducked under the yellow police tape to the crime scene, both appearing to be half asleep.

"Damn. 5:30 am. I only went to bed three hours ago." Fin commented, rubbing his eyes. John drew in a breath as he fixed his hat. "I could have told a long time ago to never spend most of the night taking shots before work. I used to do that back in the 'young and stupid' years. Only difference was that I was trying to get girls' phone numbers. What's your excuse?" He commented, as they walked past the other officers.

Fin sighed, rubbing his temples slowly. "It was that last case; the little league hockey coach who was giving 'it' to the little boys on his team. That shit was sick; I needed a few drinks from it." The former narcotics cop explained, walking up to the body.

Near the body was detective Olivia Benson, talking with the ME. She spotted her partners, and quickly finished her conversation with Dr. Warner. Olivia walked over to Fin and Munch, getting the remark from Tutuola, "Damn, if I'd known you would be here, I would have just stayed in bed."

Munch rolled his eyes. "Ignore him; it's the hangover talking." He stated. The old detective looked at the latest victim. She defiantly came off as a hooker; her strawberry blonde hair was in a ponytail, revealing her pierced ears. Her eye shadow was heavy, and her blush was extreme. The dead girl wore a thin red halter top, with a denim jacket over it. She wore an extremely short black skirt, with fishnets underneath, showing off her milky white skin. On her feet were matching red stiletto heels.

"Looks like we got another prostitute, boys," Olivia began, looking at the dead girl. "A couple walking their dog found her. She looks about twenty-four, twenty-five to me. Doc Warner found bruising around the vaginal area, as well in other places. Fluids are also present." She continued, turning away from the girl.

Fin sighed, and glanced at the street. "Guess we're gonna have to visit our good friends, the working girls." He commented, getting his keys ready. John looked back over at the girl. "We'll ask around about a strawberry blonde, around twenty four." He said, and he and Fin turned to leave.

"Looks are deceiving, detectives,"

All three of them turned around. It was Dr. Warner. She looked back down at the victim. "I've checked about two or three times, just to prove myself wrong. This girl isn't twenty four, detectives; she's sixteen."


	2. Mommy to be

Title: Lost Girl

Author: Meghan-the-Melancholy

Rating: PG-13

Summary: As the SVU detectives work on the rape and murder of a 16 year old prostitute, it brings up issues from Munch's past that, only closing up this case, will resolve them.

Author's Notes: This is my first Svu fic, so... be nice. No flames, _por favor_. If you do flame my ass... then I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, bitch!

I'll warn you right now: there won't be an E/O pairing. There's too many. A few now and then are nice, but seriously. Every other story is about them. In my opinion, there's not enough Munch fics. He's the coolest mother fucker on the show, and he's got like zip. Except for Fin/Munch fics, but those are nasty as hell.

So... on with the story.

Disclaimer: Okay, I own NOTHING, except the characters you don't recognize. All SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, that rich ass mother fucker. If you do decide to sue my poor ass, here is what you shall receive:

1.) 4 System of a Down shirts

2.) 1 bottle of black nail polish

3.) 1 black eye-liner

4.) 1 black eye-shadow

5.) $1.50

Yeah... so don't sue the poor freaky chick

Oh! People reviewed! Yaaaaaaaaay. I will give them the honor of being responded to :)

Silvarius- Aww, _arigato_! I will do my best do live up to expectations

Maggie Burps- Yaya! Another SOAD fan!! And… OMG… you said "mo'fo". That's ONLY my favorite word in the world. And I will try to satisfy your Munch Junkie needs.

Singing Daisy- Alright, I feel UBER special that you reviewed my story. I read your latest Munch fic with the 13 year old girl and I enjoyed it.

Thank you, guys. You made this short little goth girl's day.

**Update**: Alright, because I'm such an awesome person, I included an Elliot and Olivia only scene. I'm _that_ fair and balanced (Ha! Shove that up your ass, Fox News!)

* * *

Captain Don Cragen stepped out of his office, a newly brewed coffee in his hand. It was an early morning, not the earliest he's been into work, but it had been awhile. Besides, it wasn't thrilling to go to work and deal with rape and child abuse every morning.

"Sixteen year-old prostitute, eh?" He began as he walked past Munch and Benson. Cragen brought the steaming cup to his mouth and took a small sip, allowing the liquid to slide down his throat. "This should be cake for you guys. You've dealt with worse."

Olivia sighed, running her fingers through her dark ginger hair. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But you don't normally find a victim who looks nearly ten years older than she is." She commented, observing a sheet of paper.

Fin, who was lounged back in his own seat reading his given stack of files, gave a 'huh'. "It's something you expect from a hooker; most guys won't mess with you if you look like you're still in school, and like hell they'll want to get busted for that shit. And if no one messes with you, you don't get any money. Packing on years is nothing once you're getting paid." He added, throwing several papers onto his desk.

"Nothing. This is getting old real fast." Tutuola remarked, obviously flustered.

John, from his desk, shook his head as he turned to another paper. "Two hours of going through Missing Persons, and I think I found about three of four 'Jane Doe's from other cases. But our little blonde vixen still remains unknown." He concluded as his eyes scrolled down the paper.

"Another 'Jane Doe'? Sounds like fun," A familiar voice called out.

Olivia looked up to see her partner, Detective Elliot Stabler, walking in while taking off his jacket. Cragen looked his way, and grabbed a thick file from Munch's desk.

"Welcome back, Elliot," He began, and handed Stabler the file, "Here, start searching." Elliot drew in a breath, and walked towards his own desk, and took a seat.

"We got a picture of the vic?" He asked, opening the folder. John leaned backwards on his chair, and handed him a photo of the girl's face from the crime scene. Elliot observed the picture for a moment.

"Another working girl. Terrific. Just what I wanted to come back from my vacation to." He said sarcastically, and started his own search through the hordes of missing girls.

Cragen took another sip from his coffee, and began to walk back to his office when the phone on Olivia's desk rang. Saving her the trouble, he picked it up and spoke into it,

"Special Victims Unit,"

The captain was silent, giving a few 'mm hmm's and a 'they'll be down there in a moment' before he hung up.

"That was Warner," He began, getting his detectives' attention, "She's still examining the body, but she removed all potential evidence off the victim. Stabler, Benson, you go down and collect it. Fin, Munch, why don't you two head out and pay your good old friends on the corner a visit, hmm?"

**

* * *

**

**Monday, September 7th  
****ME Office, 7:40 am  
****Manhattan, New York**

* * *

Elliot and Olivia walked into the examination room, where Doctor Warner was observing their 'Jane Doe'. They knew better than to glance at her work; it wasn't the most pleasant sight in the world. The detectives walked to the other side of the table, where the good doctor looked up and gave a small smile. 

"Got anything for us, doc?" Elliot asked, as Warner removed an organ from the body. She pointed to the table next to them.

"Objects found on the girl: a set of earrings, some bracelets, and a necklace. I already cleaned them for fingerprints and DNA; they're all yours." She said, and continued on the girl.

Olivia picked up the bag and placed it in her pocket. "No clothes?" She asked. Warner slowly shook her head, continuing her work. "They're useless; your perp made her change after he was done with her." She explained, taking out another organ.

"What about the body, besides what you found two hours ago?" Benson questioned, stepping closer to her.

Warner sighed, and covered up her current work. She moved near the girl's head, and showed off the victim's neck. "Your girl died from strangulation. She had been dead for a good eight hours before that couple found her." She said, pointing to the finger marks around the young girl's neck, at which Elliot and Olivia noted.

"But wait... there's more," Warner continued, moving to the torso. "I also found, _these_," She exemplified, bringing the limp arm up for view. There were large bruises and closed up cuts tainting the dead girl's creamy complexion.

"So, the guy rapes her, and decides to let her go. She probably said something to set him off, and he beats her. Jane Doe here doesn't shut up, so he strangles her." Elliot deduced, looking over the bruises.

Warner shrugged, and moved back to her previous work. "Your guess is as good as mine. Now, I'll call you if I find anything." She commented. The detectives nodded and turned to leave.

From behind them, a heavy sigh came from the doctor, as she muttered, "Son of a bitch." Elliot and Olivia turned back around. "Is there a problem?" Benson asked.

Warner rubbed her temples. "We got ourselves a ten week old fetus." She said in a near complete monotone, and continued.

Elliot and Olivia looked at each other, each a bit sad and disgusted. "Think the sperm found in her is a match?" Stabler asked, hiding his disdain for the subject.

The doctor, who was most likely working on cutting out the fetus, replied, "I'll run a test after I'm done here. I'll call you afterwards." She continued on, but then stopped. Warner looked at the detectives.

"You might want to turn away..." She began. Elliot and Olivia cringed, getting the idea, and turned around. They could hear Warner taking out the fetus, and placing it to the side.

"You're girl's been busy," The doctor commented. Stabler and Olivia turned back around. "I would say so; she _was_ a prostitute." Elliot said; sarcasm in his voice.

Warner stuck her tongue to the side of her cheek, and shook her head a bit. "No, no, besides that." She told them. "The sides of her uterus are unusually thin. I _have_ seen this before..." The doctor sighed, and looked up at the detectives. Both detectives nodded their heads, understanding where she was going.

"She'd previously had an abortion." Olivia finished. Warner looked back at the body. "Abortion**s**. I'd say _at least_ three." She slowly shook her head and continued, "I'm surprised she was able to conceive again."

Elliot and Olivia sighed, and left the ME.


	3. Southern Belle

Title: Lost Girl

Author: Meghan-the-Melancholy

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The dead body of a 16 year old girl is found raped and beaten, with no identification and witnesses to the actual crime, leaving it up to the SVU detectives to find the girl's murderer.

Author's Notes: This is my first Svu fic, so... be nice. No flames, _por favor_. If you do flame my ass... then I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, bitch!

I'll warn you right now: there won't be an E/O pairing. There's too many. A few now and then are nice, but seriously. Every other story is about them. In my opinion, there's not enough Munch fics. He's the coolest mother f-cker on the show, and he's got like zip. Except for Fin/Munch fics, but those are nasty as hell.

So... on with the story.

Disclaimer: Okay, I own NOTHING, except the characters you don't recognize. All SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, that rich ass mother f-cker. If you do decide to sue my poor ass, here is what you shall receive:

1.) 4 System of a Down shirts  
2.) 1 bottle of black nail polish  
3.) 1 black eye-liner  
4.) 1 black eye-shadow  
5.) $1.50

Yeah... so don't sue the poor freaky chick.

**Update**: Once again, BIG THANKS to all that review.

* * *

Fin and Munch peered through the window of the black car as they pulled up to a common hang out for hookers. Already, there were about seven girls loitering, some talking while others puffed at their cigarettes. A blonde took notice of their car, and walked over to the detectives' car, her pelvis moving with each step.

The girl bent herself down, and knocked against the darkened glass. The window of the car rolled down, revealing Fin in the driver seat, and Munch in shotgun. She smiled, and licked her cherry red lips. Her hand placed itself on top of the roof, and allowed herself to lean against the car.

"Hey, boys," She cooed, her voice dripping with sleaze, "Need a picker-upper to get morning started? I've been told I've got the 'Midas touch'. If your coffee ain't working either, I'll wake you up with a morning 'ride'. I'm running a 'Labor Day' special. $100 an hour. It's a good deal; best I'm offering."

Munch couldn't help but let out a small 'huh'. "Look, kid, I'm Jewish," He began, "I'm cheap with everything, even sex." At that point, both detectives revealed their badges. "The last thing I wanna do is pay for it."

The girl stepped back, the color from her face drained. "Hey, hey... I ain't doing nothing wrong, I swear..." She began, her voice shaking.

"We just wanna ask some questions, that's all. And if you can answer them, we won't bring your ass in for prostitution." Fin replied, trying to calm her down. The girl's color returned as she nodded her head, and she came back to the car. "Alright, what do you wanna know?" She spoke, her voice less shaken.

Fin reached into his pocket, and brought forth the picture of their 'Jane Doe'. "Recognize this girl? She also 'worked for the money', so to speak, and she's not even legal." He asked. The girl observed the picture, squinting her eyes as she did so. It was taken at the crime scene, the girl's head turned, facing the camera.

The girl began to shake her head, continuing, "Nah... never. I've worked just about every corner in this city, and never saw that piece of jailbait anywhere."

Munch looked past the blonde hooker, where the other girls were hanging out. "What about them?" He questioned, pointing to the others. The girl looked back at her 'co-workers', and her attention returned to the detectives.

"Give me the photo; I'll ask around, and I'll send 'em over if they know anything." She proposed. It was clear that she wanted to be on their good side, now that she revealed herself to be a hooker. Fin and Munch glared at each other, until Tutuola handed the picture to the girl. "Give me a minute," She said quickly, and walked to the others.

The detectives watched as the prostitute went over to the others. She held out the photo to the other girls, mostly receiving shaking heads. One girl, though, nodded her head. The blonde took the other girl, a redhead, by the arm and towards the car.

The two hookers stood there, as the blonde gave the photo back to Fin. "You know the girl in the picture?" Fin asked, the question directed to the redhead.

The girl, a cigarette in hand, nodded her head. "You could say," She replied, taking in the smoke of her Marbalo. Munch nodded his head, and continued the questioning, "Care to elaborate?"

The redhead blew the smoke through her nose and continued, "I see her once in awhile at this 'Planned Parenthood' clinic in Chelsea. I go every week to check myself, and about every other month for around a year now, she's been coming and going."

Both detectives nodded. "Thanks for your help, girls. If we come around here again, I hope _not_ to see you. And I mean that nicely." Munch said, as Fin began to roll up the window. He started the engine, and they left the 'working girls'.

**

* * *

**

**Monday, September 6th  
****Planned Parenthood Clinic  
****Chelsea's Piers, New York, 8:10 am**

* * *

Munch and Fin walked into the Planned Parenthood Clinic, their eyes prowling the room. It was not at all what they expected; it was an immaculate waiting room, the floors carpeted and the furniture in excellent condition. A few people were already there: a thin brunette was browsing through a _Cosmopolitan_, a nail biting teenager who was sitting next to who seemed to be her mother, and two jittery teenagers who seem to be there only for the free condoms.

From behind the desk, a scarlet haired woman appearing to be in her early 40's emerged, wearing a light coat and with her keys and purse at hand. Her eyes moved to the detectives.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" She asked with courtesy, a clearly rehearsed line.

As if on cue, Fin and Munch revealed their badges, clearly shocking the woman. "You can start by cooperating with us. I'm Detective Tutuola and this is my partner, Detective Munch. We just wanna ask you a few questions." Detective Tutuola replied, the two men returning their badges to their pockets. Munch reached into his trench coat's pocket, and brought the photo of their Jane Doe to view.

"Seen this girl around here?" The aged detective asked. The woman glanced at the photo before bringing her attention away. "I've seen many girls, detectives, but never her." She said quickly, and began to walk between the detectives.

"That was fast," Fin commented, turning around, "You might actually wanna think back this time."

The woman glared at the detectives, clearly annoyed. "Detectives, I would love to help you, but I have never seen this girl a day in my life." She stated, loud and firm, "Now, I have to leave; one of the girls who come here needs me to confront her mother with her. Good day." At that, she left as quickly as she finished.

Fin sighed, and glanced at his partner. "The bitch blew us off like we were some bum on the streets." He commented, observing the Jane Doe in the picture.

"Which means," Munch began, "That she's hiding something."

"Well, yeah. An extra $500 will do it," A voice commented.

Fin and Munch looked at each other, and then turned around to the counter. There sat a young woman, dressed in all black and considered what society would call a 'Goth'. Her eyes were glued to a magazine as she slowly turned the page. The detectives approached the girl.

"Go on, Morticia; and do the little 'snapping' as well. I like a little music with my 'show'." Munch commented, pulling her leg. Her eyes gave him a nasty glare, but quickly desisted. She sighed, and motioned the detectives to walk closer.

"Red headed cunt is Regina Simmons. If she's not telling you anything about one of the girls she treats, then, most likely, the girl is brought in by this blonde bitch. She comes in one in awhile with these teenagers and gets them checked. When she's done, the blonde slips Regina a little something 'extra', just to keep her quiet." The girl said quietly.

The detectives nodded. "You got a name?" Fin asked. The girl looked back down to her magazine. It was clear that she didn't want to get fired. Tutuola leaned down. "It's standard procedure. If you want, we won't leak your name out. But we need you as a witness just incase the defense gets a subpoena on us. That way, we can convict 'em with no bumps in the road." He continued. The girl was still, before she nodded.

"Kennedy Moran," She stated. Kennedy looked up from her magazine. "Who's the girl you're looking for?" She asked.

Munch, who was diligently righting down what she said, reached into his pocket and held up the picture of their Jane Doe. The girl's eyes widened. "Damn," Kennedy hissed, taking the picture from John. "Ellie May got clipped."

Fin and Munch immediately looked at each other. "Ellie May?" Munch asked, eyeing Kennedy through his black shades. The goth girl nodded, handing the picture back to the Jewish detective.

"My nickname for her. I don't know her real name, but I do know that her Southern accent was so thick it put the KKK to shame." Kennedy explained. "She always came in with the blonde bitch that pays off Regina."

Fin nodded as Munch wrote. "Do you remember when you usually saw our victim?" He questioned. Kennedy thought for a moment. "She came in around every other month for like a year; usually six weeks." The girl answered.

Munch looked up from his notepad. "Amazing; I can't remember how many divorces I've had, and yet, you can remember that every six weeks, a blonde southern girl comes in," the detective commented, raising his eyebrow, "Any reason you remember this information so accurately?" Kennedy closed up her magazine and put it to the side as she took another.

"I'm studying at NYU to be an OB/GYN. My professor's a good ol' fashion republican; he's butt-crazy in love with governor of New York and his best pals, the governors of New Jersey and Connecticut. They and their families meet here like every other month or something; I'd know; my professor would spend most of that week's classes talking about it. Exactly six weeks later, Ellie May pops up, needing an abortion." She explained.

"Did she say anything during those visits that you remember?" Fin asked. Kennedy snickered aloud at this. "God, her visits to here make this job worth while." She said, clearly having flashbacks. "The blonde bitch always brought her in drugged up. Ellie May would flip out. The blonde made her get abortions against her will.

"So then Ellie May would go on, rambling. It was pretty funny actually. Then, the blonde bitch would always hit her and say 'If it weren't for me, you'd still be working over in Sheep Head's Bay'. She would usually shut up then, and then things cooled down."

Munch nodded as he wrote the last of what Kennedy had to say. "So, Miss Moran, are you sure that 'Ellie May' was half baked every time she was brought in?" John asked, confirming her statement.

Kennedy shook her head 'yes'. "I know better than anyone else when someone has some 'substances' running through their system. That girl was high off of something every time she came in. Except for yesterday, that is." She commented, opening up her new magazine.

Munch shot a glance at Fin, who did the same thing. "Wait, wait, hold the phone—'Ellie May' was here yesterday, and you didn't tell us?" Fin asked, shocked. Kennedy looked up from her magazine and groaned.

"I'm sorry, I totally forgot until now. Most of my day yesterday was spent studying for tests." She apologized. "Your girl first wandered around here yesterday while Regina was still working. 'Ellie May' seemed to wait for her to take a lunch break—which she takes her _precious_ time at—and started looked at the pamphlets..."

Kennedy paused for a minute as she thought back to the previous day. "Oh God... She walked over to me and told me she was pregnant. I asked her if she was gonna abort the fucker. She literally _flipped out_. Total pro-life. Anyways, she said she was thrilled to be pregnant, and that she and the baby's daddy were gonna get married and raise it together." She continued before she shook her head. "If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that..."

Snapping back to the situation, the girl went on, "'Ellie May' then began on how she was finally ready to go back home; bitched about missing the 'Ash Wednesday' activities. Your little Southern belle checked the time and skedaddled out of here faster than Puff Daddy at a club."

The detectives nodded. "Thank you, Miss Moran, we'll be in touch." Munch said, and he and his partner walked away.

As they left the building, John placed his vintage hat atop of his head. "Complained about missing Ash Wednesday activities, eh? If memory serves me right, there is only one state past the Mason Dixie that cares so much about that date," He commented, and added, "Or, more correctly, the day _before_ it."

Fin stopped, and looked at his partner, realizing what he said. "Fat Tuesday; Mardi Gras." The former narcotics detective remarked. John gave a nod, replying, "Correct-a-mundo."

The detectives then walked back to the car, Fin musing aloud, "No wonder we came up with no hits in missing persons; our girl's from Louisiana."


	4. Sheep Head's Bay

Title: Lost Girl

Author: Meghan-the-Melancholy

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The dead body of a 16 year old girl is found raped and beaten, with no identification and witnesses to the actual crime, leaving it up to the SVU detectives to find the girl's murderer.

Author's Notes: This is my first Svu fic, so... be nice. No flames, _por favor_. If you do flame my ass... then I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, bitch!

I'll warn you right now: there won't be an E/O pairing. There's too many. A few now and then are nice, but seriously. Every other story is about them. In my opinion, there's not enough Munch fics. He's the coolest mother fucker on the show, and he's got like zip. Except for Fin/Munch fics, but those are nasty as hell.

So... on with the story.

Disclaimer: Okay, I own NOTHING, except the characters you don't recognize. All SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, that rich ass mother fucker. If you do decide to sue my poor ass, here is what you shall receive:

1.) 4 System of a Down shirts  
2.) 1 bottle of black nail polish  
3.) 1 black eye-liner  
4.) 1 black eye-shadow  
5.) $1.50

Yeah... so don't sue the poor freaky chick

Thank you all for replying. And a special thanks to Singing Daisy, who let me know they everyone is impatiently waiting for this chapter ;-)

* * *

Munch walked alone into the Special Victims precinct. Fin had run over to the ME's office to get the fingerprints of their Jane Doe in order to get a more exact search. The detective sighed, thinking. The girl was so young, and was already so established in the business.

'_What I wouldn't give for the good old days, when a kiss on the lips was scandalous_' he thought jokingly.

John's thoughts were interrupted, when Cragen popped out of his office as he walked by. The captain eyed Munch. "Where's Fin?" He asked, as they walked to Elliot's desk, where he and Olivia were.

"Getting Jane Doe's prints from Warner," Munch replied, "He's then heading off to the FBI database."

Both Elliot and Olivia looked intently at their partner. "Why the hell are you going to the Feds? You know what they'll do, John; those uptight bastards will march in and take over the entire investigation." Stabler warned, sliding off his desk. Munch sighed as he sat at his own desk, leaning back into his chair.

Cragen rolled his eyes. "Cool it, Elliot. You know that we, especially John, don't go to 'them' unless it's absolutely necessary." He told Stabler, calming him down, "What did we have so far?"

Olivia reached over to her desk, and held up the bag of jewelry. "Warner pulled this off our girl. El and I checked it out not too long ago; it's real diamonds. So the theory of our prostitute being just another girl on the street is out. I mean, the average street hooker would have sold these pieces a _long_ time ago. There's got to be a pimp somewhere." She explained.

Elliot crossed his arms as he leaned against his desk. "She was also beaten; the body was covered with bruises and closed cuts." He began, "The cause of death was strangulation, and get this; there was a ten week old fetus in there. When Warner removed it, she found Jane Doe's uterus to be 'unusually thin'. In layman's terms: she's had a good amount of abortions."

"Makes sense," John interjected. Cragen looked over to Munch. "What did you and Fin find out?" He questioned.

The Jewish detective leaned forward in his seat, something he didn't do often. "We went to a nearby prostitute hang out; one of the girls recognized our vic from a Planned Parenthood clinic in Chelsea; said she came in every once in awhile." He clarified,

"We headed down to the clinic and met the head, Regina Simmons. She blew us off, but luckily, she had pissed off one of her own employees and we got the dirt from her. The Planned Parenthood worker is Kennedy Moran, a student at NYU. Moran says that Jane Doe had been coming for a year, six weeks; coincidently, after every one of the governor's get-togethers.

"She also made point," John continued, "that our girl's from the south. She even went as far as to call her 'Ellie May'. 'Ellie May' always came into the clinic with an unidentified blonde woman, and was stoned off her ass. Our girl's pro-life; it was the only way that her companion could bring her there, and even then, she lashed out.

"I'm telling you; she might be one of my ex-wives." He joked, causing Cragen to give him 'the looked'. John rolled his eyes and went on, "Once she gets her abortion over and done with, our elusive blonde pays the bills, and Regina Simmons with a little 'something extra' to keep her mouth shut.

"Good news, though; 'Ellie May' stopped by Planned Parenthood yesterday, clean and without the mystery blonde. She was pumped to have this kid. 'Ellie May' even went as far as to say that she and the baby's father were gonna get married and go back to her home, and the only indications of that home was something about the 'Ash Wednesday' events."

Elliot raised his eyebrow. "Ash Wednesday? Our Jane Doe was a religious fanatic?" He asked. John chuckled softly, and retorted, "What teenager do you know that _rejoices_ in receiving their ashes? I'm thinking more along the lines of Fat Tuesday..."

"Mardi Gras," Stabler commented and continued, "A tradition originated in France by its Catholics. It was brought over by the French traders and, today, is most popular in New Orleans."

"Louisiana." Munch interjected, "Before heading over here, we called in Huang and he was able to set up a meeting between Fin and him as discretely as possible. That way, the Bureau can't touch us."

Olivia nodded her head, dropping the bag of jewelry on her desk. "Alright; all we need now are some names. But until we get them, we're gonna have to wait on Jane Doe." She commented.

"Amber Miller." A gruff voice called, causing the detectives to turn around. Fin stood there, a file at hand. He began taking steps towards his partners, as he continued, "Now, is this a match, or is this a match?"

From his pocket, he brought out the picture of their Jane Doe, her face dead and lifeless. Fin slipped his hand into the file, and held up a large picture of a young girl, no more than fourteen or fifteen. Her hair was long, the strawberry blonde locks resting past her shoulders. She wore a baby blue shit, bringing out her sky blue eyes. The girl was smiling softly, radiating an innocence.

She looked exactly like the Jane Doe.

Tutuola sighed, and went on, "According to her parents, Amber Miller ran away from her home in New Orleans last April. She was fourteen and a half with a fifteenth birthday in August. She would be sixteen now."

Cragen looked away from the picture and began towards his office. "Elliot, Olivia, get a hold of the Millers," He said quietly, and then focused on Munch, "Did Moran mention anything else that could lead us anywhere?"

John brought his hand inside his pocket and pulled out the notepad, with Kennedy's interview. He briefly skimmed through it, particularly the sections of when 'Ellie May' came in with the blonde, when he spoke, "Here's something; 'Then, the blonde bitch would always hit her and say "If it weren't for me, you'd still be working over in Sheep Head's Bay".' Obviously, she had been working Brooklyn long before Chelsea. Shame it was this area though; all the _cusines_¹ live there."

Fin sat on John's desk as he handed the file to Cragen. "Sheep Head's Bay? Around six years ago, I busted this dealer working there; Eddie Jackson. Further into it, it turned out that drugs weren't the only thing he was selling; one-third of his annual income was coming in from pimping. Last I heard he was released two years ago." He explained.

The captain nodded his head, and replied, "Alright; John, Fin, go check Jackson. See if old habits really don't die hard."

**

* * *

**

**Monday, September 6th  
****Sheep Head's Bay, Brooklyn, New York  
****11:15 am**

* * *

Fin and Munch walked down the old neighborhood, a primarily Italian one. The neighborhoods of Brooklyn weren't, for the most part, the best, but this one seemed to be peaceful enough. John relied on his partner to scout for Eddie Jackson. Fin canvassed the area with his dark eyes when he stopped walking.

Before them stood a group of men, clearly in their mid-twenties, as they puffed at their cheap cigarettes. They were a mix of races, but mostly African American and Sicilian. Fin pointed to a young ebony skinned man, his black hair cut short, who wore a light gray jacket and large blue jeans. He sipped from a bottle of water while laughing, most likely from something a friend said.

"There's our boy," Tutuola stated, glancing at his partner, "Eddie Jackson." Munch nodded, and they proceeded to the group.

They didn't go unnoticed, though. The group of young men all set their eyes on the detectives, giving icy stares. The young man known as Eddie Jackson spread his arms out, his eyes still on them.

"Well, well," Eddie began, walking up to Fin, "Detective Tutuola; long time, no see." Fin glared at Jackson, his expression clearly stating that he wasn't fooling around. The group was silent; the last time Fin and Eddie saw each other was when Jackson was sentenced to eight years in prison.

"If you're looking for a quick bust, Tutuola, you're looking in the wrong place. I'm clean now; I haven't dealt an _ounce_ since you took my ass in back in '98." Eddie uttered, his friends agreeing in the background.

Fin rolled his eyes towards John, who sighed. "Quiet down!" Munch raised his voice, getting the boys' attention. Eddie scoffed at the older detective and quipped at Fin, "Yo, Tutuola, tell your ol' man **not** to talk to my boys like that!"

The former narcotics detective, obviously not wanting to deal with him, gave a small shove to Eddie and said coolly, "Watch it, Jackson; 'my ol' man' is a Jew from these parts." Eddie snickered and glanced at John.

"Listen, punk, we killed Christ²," Munch began, stepping closer to the group and observed them all through his black sunglasses, "Imagine what I could do to wastes like you. Now, if you really have nothing to hide, you'll answer our questions. That way, you can continue your 'riveting' activity of doing nothing."

Eddie looked back and forth between Munch and Fin. "Where's Robertson?" He asked Fin, looking at John through the corner of his eye. As if on cue, Fin's face flustered, as he shouted at the boy,

"Don't you say her name!"

Realizing his outburst, Fin calmed himself down into a collective manner. "I guess word on the street don't travel as fast as it used to. I left Narcotics four years ago; I'm working in Special Victims. The Jew on my right is my partner, Detective Munch." He explained.

Jackson nodded, and backed into the group of his friends. Eddie took a sip from his water bottle, and let the cool drink soften his throat. As he closed the bottle, he started, "I know Special Victims; they're the sex police. I'll tell you right now, off the record; yeah, I kept selling while I was locked up in Atticus. And I'll even admit that, yeah, I was planning my comeback once I got released. But that changed, man..."

Munch nodded, and interjected, "Care to give us the details?" Eddie glanced at John, and swallowed hard. "Because I ratted on some other dealers, they let me out after only serving four years. In the final days at Atticus, I got word of what was happening back in the bay from one of my boys..." He cut himself off and sighed,

"My little sister, Becca, was being bothered by this one bitch named '_Madam Selene_'. She wanted her to 'work for her'. When I was pimping girls out, they were legal. But Becca... she was only fourteen years old, and that blonde bitch wanted to make her a ho!"

As if on cue, Fin and Munch looked at each other. Tutuola faced Eddie, and interrupted, "Jackson, have you ever seen this girl before?" Fin then pulled out the picture of Amber Miller at fourteen years old. Slowly, Eddie nodded.

"Yeah, I know her. That's Amber; she worked at the diner I work at now around a year ago." He commented, pointing to the diner across the street. John raised his eyebrows and questioned, "Really; how long have _you_ been working there, sport?"

Eddie raised his left hand, sticking two fingers out. "Two years, I got hired three weeks after they released me. Amber was really good friends with Becca. But she was a runaway, ya know? Real Southern girl; we let her stay at our place and I even got her the job at the diner. She was a real sweet girl." He continued.

Fin nodded his head, and proceeded, "When was the last time you saw Amber?" Jackson sighed and answered, "Around late September of last year. Amber was nice, but she wasn't bright. Madam Selene came around one day and Amber caught her eye. That peroxide bitch tricked her into becoming a whore."

Munch scribbled the last of Eddie's statement onto the pad while asking, "Has this happened before, besides with your sister and Amber?"

"Yeah," A voice chimed from the group. Fin and Munch looked to there, where a Sicilian boy in his early twenties stood, holding a continually burning cigarette. Eddie looked at his friend and shook his head. "Tony... you ready to tell them about it?" He asked, with a slight nod as his response.

Tony, the black haired 6'0 boy, dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it under his sneaker. "Selene..." He began, but stopped, trying to gain some strength, "Selene actually got my sister, Theresa, for a whole year. I would have gotten her out, but Selene, she's got friends in high places, and she would have sent my ass to prison for dealing. Theresa cut a deal with her, and worked for her to keep me safe.

"So, I cleaned up and I got Theresa out of there as soon as possible. I told that bitch that 'she ain't got nothing on me' and not to come near my family again." He finished.

Munch sighed, writing the last of Tony's story. "Why didn't you come to us?" He asked the group, putting the pad away.

Eddie snapped his head towards John and said bitterly, "Who are you gonna believe: some loser kids from Sheep's Head Bay, or some bitch who deals out high class jail bait to corporation heads, senators, and kings?"

Fin stepped forward. "What did you just say?" He said quietly, surprised. Jackson looked around, and replied, "It's a known fact that Selene deals her girls to big time players. You could say that's her trademark. Anyone powerful that has a taste for school girls, they get their fix from her."

"Does that include governors?" Munch asked. Eddie nodded his head. "Yeah, I've heard about her dealing with some." He commented. The detectives nodded their heads, and Fin announced,

"Thanks, boys; that's it for now. We might be back."

And with that, they began to walk away. As they walked to their car, Fin turned to his partner. "You got a theory?" He asked, searching his pockets for his keys. John sighed, walking to the passenger side of the car.

"Let's just say that it wouldn't surprise me if the good ol' governors' visits and Amber's pregnancies were more than just a coincidence."

* * *

¹A cusine (pronounce 'coo-zheen') is a stereotypical middle aged New York Italian man. He's usually hairy and greasy, and his hair is slicked back with ¾ of a bottle of gel. They wear cheesy sports suits (usually they're untraditional colors) and they never wear ties.

Instead, the first four buttons of their shirt is open (showing off all their chest hair :-X) and they have like a thousand gold chains and the ever so classic "male pinky ring". They never wear socks, and they always wear low-cut brown loafers. You can always smell them, since they _cover_ themselves in cheap cologne.

²I myself don't believe that the Jews killed Christ. It just seemed like something Munch would say. Just wanted to clear that up :-)


	5. Theresa de Mareo

Title: Lost Girl

Author: Meghan-the-Melancholy

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The dead body of a 16 year old girl is found raped and beaten, with no identification and witnesses to the actual crime, leaving it up to the SVU detectives to find the girl's murderer.

Author's Notes: This is my first Suv fic, so... be nice. No flames, _por favor_. If you do flame my ass... then I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, bitch!

I'll warn you right now: there won't be an E/O pairing. There's too many. A few now and then are nice, but seriously. Every other story is about them. In my opinion, there's not enough Munch fics. He's the coolest mother fucker on the show, and he's got like zip. Except for Fin/Munch fics, but those are nasty as hell.

So... on with the story.

Disclaimer: Okay, I own NOTHING, except the characters you don't recognize. All SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, that rich ass mother fucker. If you do decide to sue my poor ass, here is what you shall receive:

1.) 4 System of a Down shirts  
2.) 1 bottle of black nail polish  
3.) 1 black eye-liner  
4.) 1 black eye-shadow  
5.) $1.50

Yeah... so don't sue the poor freaky chick

**Note**: I just realized that I wrote the name of Eddie's prison wrong in the last chapter. What I meant to say was "Attica"; instead, I wrote "Atticus" (as in Atticus Finch in "To Kill a Mockingbird). My bad.

**

* * *

**

**Tuesday, September 7th  
****The de Mareo Residence  
****Sheep Head's Bay, Brooklyn, New York, 4:17 pm**

* * *

John and Fin walked up the Victorian aged steps of the century old, brownstone to the sepia stained door which belonged to the de Mareo family. Tutuola raised his hand and loudly tapped on the hard door with his knuckle. Almost immediately, a loud shouting in a foreign language began, followed by footsteps towards the door.

The sepia door flew backward, revealing a small stature woman of 5'2, her skin a rich olive and her eyes a deep brown. She was old, with her gray hair in a tight bun to indicate that, and wore a long black dress that sat at her ankles, most likely a sign of mourning.

The old woman straightened her back. "Can I help you?" She asked; her Italian accent thick and strong. It was clear that her English was not well. The detectives reached into their pockets and held their badges.

"I'm Detective Munch, and this is my partner, Detective Tutuola. This is the home of Anthony and Theresa de Mareo, is it not?" John asked, sticking his badge neatly into its original place. The question struck the woman like a bolt of lightning, as she immediately stepped back.

"We do nothing wrong! We good people, we good people!" She shouted in broken English, beginning to close the door on the detectives' faces. As it was slamming closed, a hand caught it, and slowed opened it. There stood the boy from the previous day, Tony, looking intently at the old lady.

"Mama, they're here about Theresa." He said slowly. The woman glared at Munch and Fin, her eyes unsure. Sighing, the woman walked away, leaving Tony with the detectives.

Fin set his eyes on Tony, and began, "She seems too old to be your mother." Tony sighed and opened the door completely. He extended his hand into the home, indicating for them to come in.

"She's our grandmother; our mother ran away years ago, along with our father. We call her 'mama' out of habit." He said quietly.

John and Fin walked into living room, where it was decently clean. Bright and vibrant toys scattered the light gray carpeting as an old radio played old, Italian love songs. The walls were a 'sea foam' green, and were covered in crucifixes and shelves with figurines and pictures of the Virgin Mary and the baby Jesus.

Tony bent over and picked up a few of the toys, holding them in his arms. He set them in a pile in a corner, as he shouted, "Theresa! Theresa, babe, we need you for a bit!" Tony extended his hand to an ivory colored sofa and said, "Sit."

As the detectives walked to the sofa, heavy footsteps pounded through the halls. Munch and Fin looked at the threshold of the living room and saw a young woman appear standing at 5'6, wearing light blue jeans and a long sleeved pink t-shirt. Her skin was a much lighter shade of olive than her grandmother's, but still had the same brown eyes as her. Her hair was not black; rather, a dark shade of brown which reached down to her upper torso.

She glanced at Tony, her faced marked with concern. "Tony, who are they?" She asked quietly, stepping back. The young man looked at Munch and Fin, who wore emotionless expressions, and back at the girl. "They're detectives, they wanna talk about Selene." He explained, walking to her. The girl, Theresa, dropped her head and looked away, most likely embarrassed. Tony rested his hand on her shoulder and rubbed it slowly, telling her softly,

"They're detectives and they wanna help, Theresa; they already know that I was dealing, so there's no reason to protect me anymore. Just tell them what happened, babe."

Theresa nodded slowly, and walked over to the couch, leaning against Tony. He sat her down with him, Tony holding her hand. Seeing her comfortable, Munch and Fin sat in front of them, John taking off his _fedora_ and placing it in his lap. Fin took out a notepad from his pocket, ready for her story.

Munch sighed and took off his black tinted glasses, replacing them with those necessary for inside. John leaned forward, his eyes on Theresa. "Theresa, when were you first approached by Madam Selene?" He asked; his voice soft and careful. The girl looked at Munch with her large, brown eyes, before looking away again.

"Around three years ago, when I was fourteen. Tony had promised Eddie that he'd keep 'the business' alive while he was in Attica, and had been running it for around three years by that time. Selene had seen me hanging around a deli with some friends in around the corner, and said I was perfect for her line of business. I didn't know what exactly it was, but I still told her no, that I was still in school. This happened a couple of times, and every time I said no.

"Around the fifth time, she spoke to me alone. She knew about Tony running Eddie's business, and she said that she had 'friends' that would get Tony sent to Rikers in a heart beat..." She explained, before cutting herself off. Theresa sighed, and her eyes glanced at the pile of toys.

"Tony's girlfriend, Maria, was pregnant, and was ready to have the baby. We never had a father; every kid needs one, though. I told her that I'd get back to her. Two days later, Maria gave birth to a baby boy, Michael. Michael... he looked exactly like Tony's baby pictures. I couldn't let him grow up without him..."

Munch sighed, and interjected, "So you cut a deal with the devil; you'd work for Selene, as long as she kept her mouth shut about Tony." Theresa nodded and sniffled, raising her hand to hold her nose.

"I ran away the next day, and just took a few sets of clothes. Selene owns a brownstone in Manhattan, so there was no chance I would run into Tony or anyone I knew. When I got there, I found all these girls there, all my age. I moved into my own room; each girl had their own. The first day..." She stopped, wiping her eyes. Tony, pained from his sister, leaned in and urged, "Go ahead, the detectives need to know, babe..." Theresa nodded and continued,

"The first day was like I actually visited hell; I heard nearly every girl in the building moaning through the walls. There was so much... _sin_ going on, things you read about in the Bible. I couldn't sleep that night, so all I did was pray. The next day, a girl knocked on my door..." She stopped, and looked at Munch, "Breakfast was on the table. She acted like they ran some Beaver Cleaver household."

Theresa looked away again, resting her head on Tony's shoulder. "Selene came down and said to me 'You'll be initiated tonight. A very special someone will be coming, just for you.' Some of the girls giggled, while some just shook their head. That night, Selene and another girl dressed me up like I was some sex toy. All I wore was a white bra and panties, and they told me to lie on the bed and even _positioned_ me on how to lie. They lit a few candles, turned off the lights, and walked out. Selene said that my 'very special someone' would be in a minute."

"A few minutes later, a man walked in. A man, not like a boy my age, but a man, the same age as the neighborhood guys that would visit mama. I couldn't see much, but I could tell he was smiling. He took off his coat and shirt first, while talking to me: 'White, eh; a nice, _pure_ one. Baby, you'll remember this night for the rest of your life.' He... he unzipped his pants and walked over to the bed..."

Theresa then let out a painful cry, and pulled away from Tony. She leaned into her own lap, and began to sob in her hands, her hair providing a veil for her. Tony immediately bent forwards, wrapping his arms around her. Munch looked at his partner, sadness in his old face. Fin sighed, his face painted with anger and remorse for Theresa.

John rose from his seat and kneeled near Theresa. "Theresa..." He began, only to have the girl sob harder. "Theresa, sweetheart, I know this is hard for you, but I need you to tell me and my partner what happened."

Theresa looked up, her stunning brown eyes were red and her skin stained with hot tears. Her hands wiped her face, leaving wet streaks. She slowly brought herself upwards, allowing Tony to release his grip. The girl looked down to Munch, her small frame still shaking. She swallowed hard, due to the lump formed in her throat, and continued,

"I screamed and jumped from the bed. I... I ran to the door, but he-he grabbed me by the waist an-and _laughed_. He **laughed** and said: 'Feisty, feisty; don't worry sweetie, I'll be gentle.' He picked me up, even though I was still screaming, and put me on the bed. He _ripped_ off his pants and pulled down the covers. He slipped in, but not until I was in. He..." She swallowed again, refraining herself from crying,

"He kissed me, but not the kind of kissing you do with men his age. He stuck his _tongue_ down my throat; his hand was in my hair while his other was rubbing my right breast. I... I tried to get free, but he sat himself on top of me and shoved his hands onto my shoulders. 'Go ahead, struggle,' he hissed at me, 'I love it when they put up a fight.' He... he tore off my panties an-and... went 'inside' me..."

Theresa cut herself off and began crying, falling out of her seat and to John, who caught her in his arms. He sighed as she sobbed into his shoulder, speaking between her cries, "He moved b-back and forth inside me. It hurt so much, and I kept crying out, asking someone to help me, but no one came. It went on forever, and no one came..."

Fin looked over, watching Tony. The young man, who looked like a toughened kid from the streets, could only stare at his sister, tears marking his eyes. '_He feels responsible; he screwed up, and Theresa pays for it by getting raped_.' Fin thought, but was snapped back into reality as Theresa continued,

"After he was done, he went out of bed, put his pants back, and looked at me and smiled. He _smiled_, and said 'Thanks, hon; I had a blast.' He then winked and blew me a kiss. He got dressed and left. I felt so... _unclean_. I had my own bathroom, so I ran into there. I looked into the mirror; my hair was a mess and my make-up was smeared. I... was a whore; a dirty, filthy whore. I threw up in the toilet, and then I took a shower.

"When I got out, Selene was there, smiling. I called her a bitch and told her to burn in hell. She laughed and said 'Congratulations, you passed. Now, if you want your brother to be a free man, you will do this every night and not complain. See you in the morning.' And then, she just... left."

Theresa's cries softened, as she continued, "I did this for nearly a year, hating each time a man went into me. The whole time, I wondered how Tony and Maria and Michael were doing: what stories Tony read to him, what shows Maria watched with him, what advice mama gave to them. I just hoped that they were happy.

"Then, one day, as I was about to 'go down' on this guy, I heard my name being called. My heart stopped; it was Tony. I put on a robe and ran out of the room to see Tony at the main door with Eddie, who had Becca in his arms. Becca had been there for two days, and I figured that Eddie was there for her. Tony saw me and ran up the stairs. We hugged, and I started to cry in his arms.

"The guy I was assigned to go with came out, and said that he paid for me and he was gonna get a good hour out of me. Tony gave him the coldest stare and punched him, and said to him 'You come near my sister again and I'll cut your dick off.' He brought me down the stairs, but Selene was down there. She yelled at Tony and Eddie: 'Don't you dare disrupt my business! I'll have you two sent to Rikers!' They just looked at her and Tony said 'Bitch, you ain't got nothing on me. I'm out of the business, and the police aren't interested in booking _former_ dealers. Don't let me _ever_ see you near my family again.' We then left, and I haven't seen that place since."

Munch nodded, and looked down at Theresa. "Thank you. Theresa, if we ever catch your rapist, would you be willing to testify against him?" He asked her gently, not wanting to scare her. Theresa was still, deep into thought. "He was gonna have sex with me whether I wanted to or not. He must have done it with other girls, too. Y-yes... I would." She replied, her voice cracked.

John stood up, bringing Theresa with him. He looked upon Tony, and rested Theresa on him. "Thank you; we'll be in touch." He commented and looked at his partner. Fin closed up the notepad and stuck it in his pocket. He stood up and fixed his coat. Tutuola picked up the vintage hat and handed it back to John, who placed it upon his head.

The detectives quietly left the de Mareos, closing the door behind them. Fin sighed as they walked down the steps and commented, "It matches Becca's story." Munch nodded; they had previously been at the Jacksons, talking with Becca and Eddie.

"Explains why Eddie lied to us yesterday about her never being there; Becca reacted the same way as Theresa, and she was only there for two days. Amber probably had the same 'initiation' as those girls." Munch commented. Visiting rape victims always took the wit out of him.

Tutuola took his keys out of his coat pocket, and searched through them. "Me and Olivia will check out any 'Selene's that own brownstones in the Manhattan area. Amber's parents and brother are coming this afternoon; Cragen wants you and Stabler to tell them and bring them to Warner's." He went on, finding the key and unlocking the car.

Munch sighed, opening his door and sitting himself in. "We need more information; you know Novak won't do a thing until we get her something to make a case. As much as I hate it, we're gonna need to come back to Becca and Theresa. We need them to tell us about any other girls." He said, gloom marking his voice. Fin closed the door and stuck the key into the ignition, turning it half heartedly.

"You did well with Theresa; you sure you don't want kids?" He asked, changing the subject. John smiled wryly. "And have them suffer through all of my inevitable divorces? Not a chance; I would never do that to a kid." He defended, his wit resurfacing.

Fin chuckled, pulling out of their parking space and headed to the precinct.


	6. Fingernails

Title: Lost Girl

Author: Meghan-the-Melancholy

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The dead body of a 16 year old girl is found raped and beaten, with no identification and witnesses to the actual crime, leaving it up to the SVU detectives to find the girl's murderer.

Author's Notes: This is my first Suv fic, so... be nice. No flames, _por favor_. If you do flame my ass... then I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, bitch!

I'll warn you right now: there won't be an E/O pairing. There's too many. A few now and then are nice, but seriously. Every other story is about them. In my opinion, there's not enough Munch fics. He's the coolest mother fucker on the show, and he's got like zip. Except for Fin/Munch fics, but those are nasty as hell.

So... on with the story.

Disclaimer: Okay, I own NOTHING, except the characters you don't recognize. All SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, that rich ass mother fucker. If you do decide to sue my poor ass, here is what you shall receive:

1.) 4 System of a Down shirts  
2.) 1 bottle of black nail polish  
3.) 1 black eye-liner  
4.) 1 black eye-shadow  
5.) $1.50

Yeah... so don't sue the poor freaky chick

* * *

Munch sat at his desk in silence looking over several documents. His dark brown eyes scanned Amber Miller's permanent record, reading over what she accomplished in her short time at school. Her grades were poor, reaching no higher than a 'C', but that clearly did not stop her from cheerleading. John chuckled at this.

'_Pretty cheerleaders with poor grades; I'm not surprised_' He thought dryly, placing the paper on top of Amber's file. John sighed, picking up his cup of coffee. He took a small sip, his taste buds rejecting the now-cooled liquid that was sitting around for three hours.

The old detective glanced at his watch: 7:32 pm. The Millers were due that afternoon, and there was still no sign of them. Hell, there was no sign of Fin and Olivia, who had only gone out to find 'Madam Selene'. '_Must've got a lead_' He figured, glancing at the photo of Amber Miller on the folder. His heart softened; she was still a baby, and some sick pervert beat her, raped her, and left her for dead.

'_No girl her age deserves to die_,' John thought bitterly, '_At least, not this way; not like how Frankie died..._'

Before he could continue his train of thoughts, Elliot walked into the station, taking off his long, black jacket. Munch's eyes fixed upon his partner.

"Evening, Elliot; how was your _thrilling_ evening with the Missus and the kids?" He commented, his eyes retreating to their former place. Stabler hung his jacket on the coat rack, replying, "Pretty good, actually. We got a letter earlier today; Kathleen and some other kids from her school have been selected to earn a scholarship."

John's head perked up surprised. "A teenaged girl with some brains in her head, I'm impressed. Congratulations, El." He said his wit back in its full strength. Elliot gave a friendly smile; it wasn't often that Munch _wasn't_ cynical, and he gladly accepted every moment.

"Olivia paged me about an hour ago—she and Fin found a few leads and are tracking them down," Elliot announced, walking over to the back and pulling out the large board. The slight rattling of the board was brought to the attention of Cragen, who left his office for the squad room.

The captain eyed the blank board, sighing inwardly. The case became more complicated since the involvement of 'Madam Selene', which led to the possibilities of more rapes.

"Alright, it's been about thirty-eight hours since we found Amber Miller. What do we have?" Don asked.

John rose from his desk, the picture of Amber, in which she was smiling, between his long fingers. He approached the board, and stuck the picture on. Sighing, Munch began,

"Amber ran away from home last April and ended up in Sheep Head's Bay. There, she stayed for a few months, living with Eddie Jackson's family," He walked from the board for a moment, reaching onto his desk and grabbing several photos. John returned to the board and placed Eddie Jackson's mug shot there.

"Around this time last year, 'Madam Selene' found Amber and managed to convince Amber to work for her. She's done this before to both Theresa de Mareo," Munch cut himself off, sticking a school photo of Theresa on there, "And Rebecca Jackson." He did the same with a picture of Becca, her skin a dark ebony, her hair long and black in tight Jeri-curls and her eyes large and brown.

John sighed, and continued, "Amber went in and out in the Planned Parenthood in Chelsea. She was last there on Sunday, viewed by our little 'Princess of Darkness'. Twelve hours later, Amber's body is found near Battery Park."

Elliot nodded, and walked to the board. "CSU had the whole crime scene marked; it's a 'drop' job. There was no evidence of the murder taking place there, nor the rape. Warner confirmed that she had been dead for awhile before she was found." He commented, specifying the details of her death.

"Found the bitch." A feminine voice said aloud, causing Cragen, Elliot, and Munch to turn around. Olivia and Fin were walking in, still with their coats on. From a folder in Fin's hand, the dark skinned detective pulled a large photo from it. He handed it to Olivia, who held it before her.

The picture was of a fairly young woman, her skin fair and her eyes soft gray, with platinum blonde hair that fell past her shoulders. It was no doubt that she was an attractive woman, but in the eyes of the detectives, she was ruthless.

"Great, just what we need: more blondes. What happened to being a brunette, or perhaps a redhead?" Munch quipped, receiving a few annoyed reactions.

As Olivia brought the photo to the board, Fin began, "Selene Lawson, age thirty-five, owns a brownstone on the upper east side. Neighbors say that she runs a 'home for street girls'." The detective scoffed, continuing,

"Yeah, 'home' my ass. She's been there for around ten years, matching both Theresa and Becca's stories." Cragen nodded, looking at the array of photos.

Over the noise of the station, a Southern tenor voice called out, "Uh... excuse me? Is this is the sixteenth precinct?"

Don and his group of detectives turned themselves around towards the doorway of the office. A tall man stood there, his hair strawberry blonde and his eyes a crisp blue, wearing a dark, brown leather jacket with a light blue flannel shirt underneath and dark blue jeans. Next to him was a woman of medium height, her hair black and resting on her shoulders, wearing a black coat over a white shirt and dark, blue pants. At her side, a young boy stood nervously in khaki pants and a white and blue striped shirt under his navy blue Dickies jacket.

"Can I help you?" Cragen asked, walking to them. The man nodded, and turned to his two companions. "I'm Adam Miller, and this is my wife, Amanda, and this is our son, Dayton. I'm sorry for us being as late as we are, but our flight was delayed." Mr. Miller apologized.

The captain nodded, accepting his excuse. Before he could say anything, Amanda Miller questioned, her accent in full enthusiasm, "You said you wanted to talk to us about Amber? Did you find her?" Don sighed, and looked back at his detectives. "Elliot, John," Cragen began, calling over the detectives.

As Elliot and John walked, Cragen continued, "Mr. and Mrs. Miller, these are Detectives Stabler and Munch; they'll answer any of your questions." The captain quickly walked away in order to answer any questions.

The Millers fixed themselves on the detectives, their faces hungry for answers. "Detectives, have you found our baby?" Adam asked: his voice filled with anticipation and anxiety. Elliot and John glanced at each other, both sighing inwardly.

"Mr. Miller," Elliot began, unsure whether to continue or not, "We need you and your family to accompany us down to the medical examiners."

A bolt of horror went through their faces. "M-medical examiners, like the ones on those police shows?" Dayton Miller asked: his voice shaky. Munch nodded, replying, "A dead girl was found the other day; she matches Amber's profile-"

"Oh God," Mrs. Miller uttered, bringing her shaky hand to her mouth. Mr. Miller draped his arm around his wife's shoulder, gently squeezing it. Reluctantly, Munch continued, "It may not be your daughter, but that's why you're here; we need you to confirm whether it's Amber or not."

Adam slowly nodded his head, in somewhat of a daze. "Whatever you need, yes."

**

* * *

**

**Tuesday, September 7th  
****Medical Examiner  
****Manhattan, New York, 8:19 pm**

* * *

The Millers stood nervously in the waiting room, Munch and Stabler waiting with them. They called Warner before they left, so it gave her little time to prepare. Elliot and John already knew that it was Amber; Eddie had positively identified her, but he had only known her for a few months.

Just then, the door of Warner's work area opened, Warner herself poking her head out. "Whenever you're ready," She said, bringing herself back in. The detectives looked at the shaken Millers, and then led them into the room.

Warner stood near the body, the stale blue sheet covering it. Munch and Stabler stood near the door, allowing the Millers to walk to the body alone. Amanda Miller stopped, her body frozen. Her husband glanced at her, and slid his arm around her waist, trudging her along. Dayton stood in front of the body, fidgeting to no end.

After the family was gathered, Warner grasped the ends of the sheet and gently slid it off, revealing the head. A terrible shriek came from Mrs. Miller, as she dropped to her knees. She buried her hands into her face, her sobs loud and painful. Mr. Miller stepped back, stumbling as he did. His lower lip quivered as his eyes began to water. Dayton stood in his place, trembling, as he began to gasp harshly.

"It's her..." Dayton said, on the verge of tears, "It's Amber... I can't believe she's dead..."

There was a dreadful silence to the room, with the exception of Amanda's howls. John and Elliot looked at each other; two solid confirmations.

"What... what happened to her?" Adam asked: his voice quiet. Warner sighed, covering Amber's head with the sheet. "She was raped, beaten, and, finally, strangled to death." Warner explained.

Munch sighed. "We're still investigating your daughter's death; we ask that you not talk with anyone outside this room about it." He said softly.

Adam nodded, lowering himself down near his wife. His arm, though trembling, wrapped itself around Amanda's waist. Mr. Miller slowly lifted his wife from the ground. "If it means finding Amber's murderer, then yes, anything," He began, resting Mrs. Miller's head on his shoulder, "When can we bring her home? W-we'd like to bury her near my mother and my grandparents."

The detectives glanced at Warner, who sighed and looked at Amber's veiled corpse. "I want to keep her a few more days, just to clean her up a bit more." She answered, her eyes diverted from the parents.

Elliot, his eyes on Dayton, placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and said, "We'll call you when the full autopsy is done. Then, you can come and pick her up, okay?" Dayton nodded, and walked over to his father and overly distraught mother. Mr. Miller fixed his eyes on the detectives and Warner and quietly, but kindly, replied,

"Th-thank you very much."

With that, the Millers turned around, and began to walk on the white tiles out of the room. Sighing, Elliot and John began to do the same when Warner's voice calmly called, "Detectives, I need to talk with you for a minute."

The detectives faced the medical examiner, who was walking to a nearby counter where there layed a clipboard stacked with papers. "You found something else, doc?" Elliot asked, keeping himself at arm's length from Amber's body.

Warner picked up the clipboard and two adjacent baggies, and made her way back to the detectives. She placed the board on the autopsy table and uncovered Amber from her head to slight above her breasts.

"Not long after you and Olivia came by, I found _these_ while cleaning your girl's cuts," She began, picking up a small bag, containing several pieces of long, blonde hair. John squinted his eyes and took the bag from Warner, bringing it closer to him.

"This hair has to be _the_ cleanest and most feminine hair for a man that I've ever seen. What the hell is this guy thinking while he's doing 'it', 'I hope they can my hair _glisten_ from this angle'?'" He commented, handing it to Elliot.

Warner raised her eyebrows in response, and moved back towards Amber, lifting her head, revealing the back of her neck. There, there were several punctures where the strangulation marks ended. "These I found while checking the cuts on her shoulders. I checked them and cleaned them, and from what I found, you guys just got _pretty_ damn lucky."

Warner layed Amber's head down gently, and picked up a baggie that sat on her clipboard. She held the small bag up; in it, a small, white chip of something was packed, half of it, covered in blood. Munch observed the object carefully, his thumbing outlining it through the thin plastic. He looked back up at Warner, his aged faced marked with confusion.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong," Munch began, holding the bag up, "But this is a piece of a fingernail." Warner pointed to John, nodding her head and stating, "There were eight indents, and in about three or four of them, there were fingernail chips in each; all, painted with white nail polish. There were more samples of both the hair and the fingernails, but I've already sent them over to forensics for you."

John handed Elliot the small bag, causing Stabler to tilt his head in concentration. "These nails were manicured," He began, looking at John and Warner, "Kathy brings the girls to this place here in the city, _Chloe's_, once every few months for a decent manicure. When I get home, Lizzie runs up and _insists_ on showing me them..."

"The joys of fatherhood." Munch quipped, at which Elliot ignored and continued, "Their nails are always styled the same way; they're a bit pointy at the end. Liz even dug one of those nails into Dickie's arm, once."

John chuckled, remarking, "Insta-knives; get your own weapon shaped into you by a small Korean woman in less than an hour." Elliot rolled his eyes. "The point is that this is from the same beauty salon. Kathy has been switching salons for a few months now; all have a different style."

Warner smiled, removing a few papers from her clipboard and handing to Munch. "I'm not an expert on manicures, but there is a difference from salon to salon. No snowflake is alike." She noted.

Munch sighed, looking at the hair and fingernail evidence. Suddenly, something hit the old detective like a ton of bricks. "What kind of guy has manicured nails?" He asked rhetorically, his face blank.

Elliot raised his eyebrows and thought for a moment. "I would think _especially_ feminine gay men in the village," He answered, then paused for a moment, "But no gay man would rape a woman." Stabler glanced at the fingernail, and then at Munch.

"Amber's murderer wasn't a man..." He trailed off, allowing Munch to answer, "It's a woman. And from the looks of this," John pointed to the pieces of hair, and continued,

"I say that our suspect list has just shaved down. This hair is long and blonde, just like our friend, Selene Lawson's."

* * *

A/N: Okay, I'm finally starting to do some hinting into what is going on in the mind of John Munch and this emotional issue resurfaced due to this case. Just want to clear that up.

Also, I've been thinking about taking the advice from one of my reviewers and am looking for a beta reader since my grammar sucks. If you wish to be it, e-mail me or IM me on AOL, but I suggest e-mail, since I'm rarely on AOL.

If you wanna know what's going down with the story so far, check my profile. But scan carefully, unless you wanna waste 10 minutes of your life on pointless shit :-p

That's... about it.

So please, make the girl in black happy, and review )


	7. The Helpful Girl Scout

Title: Lost Girl

Author: Hola-Meg-a-Cola

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The dead body of a 16 year old girl is found raped and beaten, with no identification and witnesses to the actual crime, leaving it up to the SVU detectives to find the girl's murderer.

Author's Notes: This is my first Suv fic, so... be nice. No flames, _por favor_. If you do flame my ass... then I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too, bitch!

I'll warn you right now: there won't be an E/O pairing. There's too many. A few now and then are nice, but seriously. Every other story is about them. In my opinion, there's not enough Munch fics. He's the coolest mother fucker on the show, and he's got like zip. Except for Fin/Munch fics, but those are nasty as hell (Sorry for this comment, Dave)

Disclaimer: Okay, I own NOTHING, except the characters you don't recognize. All SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, that rich ass mother fucker. If you do decide to sue my poor ass, here is what you shall receive:

1.) 4 System of a Down shirts  
2.) 1 bottle of black nail polish  
3.) 1 black eye-liner  
4.) 1 black eye-shadow  
5.) 1.50

Yeah... so don't sue the poor freaky chick

**Update**: Hey, my bitches. I'm back in black! Well… I've always been in black, but that's beside the point. I haven't been writing mainly due to school (yes, that other obligation I have). But, given motivation from the **LACK** of Munch episodes, I have returned to my little lovelies.

I have been disgusted, recently, with SVU, considering they caved to rabid E/O fans and have Elliot and Kathy separate. I went on the next day and a fucking wave of new E/O fan fics popped up. Fucking retarded; they have time to bitch about Elliot and his family, but not enough to talk about my favorite Jew in Black. '_shakes head_'. But I did enjoy the episode with Martin Short. His performance was chillingly brilliant.

Anyways, on with the show!

**

* * *

**

**Wednesday, September 8th  
****Chloe's Boutique  
****Manhattan, New York, 9:06 am

* * *

**

Munch and Fin entered the small salon, tainted with the aroma of nail polish remover and hair spray. John coughed as they walked the line customershaving their hair styled. Fin avoided running into a young woman who swept up the dead hair on the floor as they went to the back desk. John opened his mouth, only to have Fin interrupt,

"Let me guess; smells like your ex-wives?" Munch raised his eyebrows above his black shaded glasses and replied, "Actually, I was going to say my mother, but now that you mention it…" He trailed off as they approached the desk. A middle aged Hispanic woman sat there, typing at her computer, when she looked up to the detectives. The clicking ceased and the woman clasped her hands together, her long, hot pink nails decorating her fingers.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely, clearly surprised that two men dared to enter a salon. The detectives flashed their badges, answering the woman's suspicions. "We're investigating a case," Fin began, "and we need the name of one of your customers." The woman turned her eyes towards the computer, her furious typing continuing once again.

"Who are you looking for, and why?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the screen. Munch cleared his throat and said, "A woman named Selene who lives on the Upper East Side. We believe she may be very crucial to the case. We just need to know if she was here at any time at all." The woman shrugged her shoulders, continuing to search on the computer.

The woman clicked the mouse, and murmured "Here we go." The detectives' ears perked. "Selene Lawson, Upper East Side, came in Saturday for a manicure." The woman read aloud, pleasing the detectives. Munch nodded, continuing, "Does it say who worked on her?" The woman scrolled down the page.

"Bai Kwon, she's over there." The woman pointed to the other side of salon, where a middle aged oriental woman was carefully working on a customer's nails. The detectives nodded and walked away.

Munch and Fin stood next to the woman Bai Kwon. "Bai Kwon?" Fin asked, getting the woman's attention. Bai stopped, and looked up at the detectives. They showed their badges before putting them away. The woman went pale, fixing her chin length hair. "I will become legal American next year! I have learned English and I break no laws!" She pleaded in a shaky voice.

John groaned and said coolly, "We're not Immigration; we're investigating a case involving a customer of yours: Selene Lawson." Color returned to Bai's cheeks, continuing, "Ms. Lawson tips well; is she in any trouble?" Fin shook his head. "We just need you to confirm something for us." He responded.

Bai nodded her head as she picked up the emery board and began working on the customer's nails again. Fin then asked, "Was Selene Lawson here on Saturday?" The woman nodded her head, continuing, "Yes, Ms. Lawson was here. I gave her the usual manicure." Munch, impatient, questioned, "Which is…?"

Bai placed down the emery board at her side and began to carefully blow on the nails. "She wanted me to give her my usual style; when I work on nails, I give them a little point at end. I did that and I painted them white. Ms. Lawson prefers white." She explained. The detectives looked at each other, pleased.

* * *

In the car, Fin held his cell phone to his ear, talking. "All right, we're on it, captain." He closed his phone and turned to his partner. "Cragen wants us to talk with Selene Lawson." He commented, starting the car.

* * *

**Wednesday, September 18th, 2004  
****Residence of Selene Lawson  
****Manhattan, New York, 2:45 am

* * *

**

The detectives stepped out of the car just as a blonde exited a building. "There's our girl." Fin commented to his partner as they approached the woman. The woman was digging through her purse when she noticed the detectives. She placed a fake smile on her face and asked sweetly, "Can I help you, gentlemen?" Once again, the detectives showed their badges.

Her facial expression didn't change, but her body told another story. The young woman's hands became sweaty, causing her to wipe them against the sides of her purse. "I don't see how I can help." She said brightly. Munch glanced at his partner, as if saying '_I can handle this_'. The elder detective cleared his throat and kept his hands in his pockets.

"Are you Selene Lawson?" He asked. The woman straightened out her back and gave an innocent appearance. "Why, yes I am," She began, batting her eye lashes, "Is there a reason you're looking for me?" Munch's hand left his pocket, showing a picture of a fourteen-year old Amber. "Do you recognize this girl?" He asked in a stern voice.

Selene focused on the picture, her hand placed over her heart. "Oh my God, it's Amber. Is she okay?" She inquired. John's hand returned to his pocket, as he answered with a question, "How did you know Amber?"

This question startled Selene. She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I run a home for runaway girls. She was one of them." She said, keeping her composure. John nodded, noticing she used past tense '_was_',and glanced at her hands. Most of her fingers were bandaged up. "I see there has been some sort of accident." He remarked. Selene shifted her eyes towards her hands.

"Oh, _this_," She began, chortling a bit, "I had an argument with one of the girls and it got a bit out of hand. That's it." Fin nodded his head, observing his partner through the corner of his eye. His facial expression didn't alter for a moment.

From behind his sunglasses, Munch glanced at the building. "What does this 'home' do for the girls?" he asked. Selene cleared her throat. "I feed and shelter the girls-" She began when John interrupted, "How about finding their families?" Selene stood there in shock, her words caught in her throat. "Well…" She trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"Their families are probably worried sick and you haven't even bothered to try to locate them?" He asked harshly. Selene's grip on her purse tightened as she responded, "They come to my home for a reason! Some girls come from abusive home and some don't have homes at all! You expect me to waste my money on hopeless causes when I could use it to help more girls?"

"You could come to us!" John spat, no longer in the role of a detective. Rather, Fin noticed that he was exerting an emotion that he saw every day but not from John: grief. He was more like a relative of a victim than doing his job. "Not all are abuse victims or homeless; some are just whacked out teenaged girls! If you come to us, we'll weed out the kooks from the real girls that need your help!"

Fin placed his hand on his partner's shoulder and said calmly, "John…" Munch looked at his partner, who wore a concerned face. He looked back Selene. It was if the devil were dancing in her eyes. "I have to go, detectives. If you have anymore questions, you can call my lawyer." She said with an aspect of venom in her voice and marched to her car.

The detectives watched as she pulled away from the building and down the street. Munch sighed and began rubbing his temples. Fin continued to stare at him, his eyebrows raised. "What's gotten into you, man?" He asked softly. John turned away, sticking his hands into his pockets. "She reminded me of one of my wives." He lied, walking back to the car.

Fin shook his head returning to the car as well when a soft voice called out, "Hey, misters, want to buy some cookies?" The detectives looked across the street where a small girl, around eight years old, sat with a table of Girl Scout cookies in front of her. Fin and John glanced at each other before making their way across the street.

The detectives stood in front of the little girl who was swinging her legs under the table. "Hey sweetie," Fin began, showing his badge, "we're detectives and we want to ask some questions." The little girl smiled widely, one of her front teeth missing. "You want to buy some cookies?" She asked again.

Fin smiled, going through his pockets for his wallet. "Sure, I'll take a box." As Fin was going through his wallet, the girl set her focus on John. "Would you like to buy some cookies, mister? They're only three dollars and fifty cents." She asked, ever persistent.

Munch raised his eyebrows. "Buy health damaging cookies in order to support an organization that tells young girls that they are special individuals but at the same time tell them that they're not good enough to compete for badges with boys? I'm afraid not." He explained, barely taking in a breath.

The girl sat there, a dull expression on her face as she played her reddish brown pigtails. "Huh?" she said weakly. Fin shot a nasty glance at his partner before turning back to the girl. "He'll take three." He said coolly. It was John's turn to shoot a dirty look. Fin turned to him. "Well, what are you waiting for, man? That's 10.50." He said dryly. Munch groaned as he took out his wallet.

Fin smiled at the little girl. "What's your name, sweetie?" He asked. The girl smiled brightly as Munch handed her the money and responded, "Alexis." John slipped his wallet back into his pocket as Fin continued, "Do you live near here, Alexis?" Alexis nodded her head. "Yup, I live here!" She turned around and pointed at the building behind her.

"Do you know the woman who lives across the street?" Munch asked, fidgeting with his sunglasses. Alexis looked past them at Selene's brownstone. "Who, Selene? Sure I know her. She bought two boxes of Tagalongs from me yesterday." She answered. John gave a collective sigh and continued, "Have you seen anything unusual going on at her house lately?"

Alexis tilted her head, thinking. "No, just the usual." She said. It was Fin's turn to come in. "What's 'the usual', Alexis?" He asked. Alexis began playing with a box of cookies as she replied, "Well, there's a bunch of men that come in and out. I asked her once who they were. She said that the girls in her home were sick and that they were doctors. They must be really sick, since doctors are _always_ coming."

The detectives glanced at each other, knowing they have what they want. "Thanks, sweetie, for all your help." Fin said, and they turned to leave. "Wait!" Alexis called, and the detectives turned around again. "You forgot your cookies." She said in a small voice. "You keep them." John said, waving his hand.

"I can't! Mommy said that I can't have cookies while my baby teeth are falling out!" She whined, then proceeded to move her tongue around the area where her tooth was missing. Groaning, Munch picked up four boxes of cookies, one of them Fin's, and walked away. "Thank you, come again!" She called out happily.

The detectives entered the car, John placing the cookies in the back. Fin closed his door and slipped his key into the ignition. "Well, that confirms Theresa and Becca's story and also gives us a suspect." He said, starting up the car. Munch remained silent, staring out in front of him. Fin sighed and turned to his partner.

"John, what's up? You've been weird ever since you talked to Selene." He inquired. Munch snapped out of his daze and shook his head. "Nothing; we need to get back to the precinct." He spoke and then slipped back into his daze.

Reluctant as he was to his answer, Fin accepted it, for now, and began to drive back to the 16th precinct.


End file.
